A Few Snapshots
by MustacheBuddiesXD
Summary: Crowley discovers something that Aziraphale has kept from him for quite some time and is worried. What happens when you get an angel drunk and ask questions? More than you would think... Slash A/C
1. What's in Your Wallet

**This is my first time writing a pairing fic, and I would really appreciate if you all let me know how I'm doing... It's also my first jump into writing in the Good Omens fandom...**

Crowley hissed in pain as the knife he had been cutting with sliced into his finger.

It had been a fine day, really, with lunch at the Ritz with Aziraphale, and then there was the fact that the end of the world had been diverted and everything. Crowley did not expect, though, that on the first day on the rest of all of their lives he would be _cooking_. Crowley thought back to the events that had led up to even the _notion_ of Crowley cooking a meal.

Well, lunch had been splendid, and then from there they really didn't know what to do. The past few years had been devoted to dealing with the Antichrist, and that wasn't really an issue now. They had considered getting plastered in the back of the book shop, but something about that didn't seem _right_ after they had just saved the world and all. Neither of them would admit it to the other, but nothing about being separate from each other that day seemed at all appealing. They had almost been destroyed together, and something like that doesn't leave somebody that quickly, even if the two somebodies happened to be an angel and a demon. On top of that, nobody else on Earth seemed to remember the events of yesterday.

"We could have dinner at my place, but I don't really have those kind of accommodations," Aziraphale had said, running a hand through his blonde hair, referring, of course, to the fact that he didn't have a working kitchen in his small apartment above the bookshop. He didn't _need_ to eat, but it had become fun to eat out at nice restaurants. When you had a human body you got used to doing human-like things.

"Why don't we go out to eat?" Crowley suggested.

"Well, I was thinking of something more, you know, private. Where we can talk without the humans overhearing something," mumbled Aziraphale.

"I could cook us something at my flat," Crowley had said, and then blinked, wondering where that had come from. He didn't cook.

"Brilliant," the angel said, brightening. Crowley grumbled at his bad luck.

And here he was, trying to cut whatever it was this blasted cookbook was telling him to cut, Aziraphale sitting innocently on his couch in the living room. Crowley was trying to concentrate on whatever it was that he was trying to make, but the angel had gone on talking to him, oblivious to his mounting frustration. He would have just gestured the food into being, but something told him that Aziraphale would frown upon that.

Crowley was only half-listening to Aziraphale go on about some customer that he had had in the bookstore, aware of the growing animation on the angel's face. Crowley looked up for a moment from his work to watch Aziraphale talking.

"And she asked me if, instead of buying a book from me, she could _go out with me_," he said darkly, as if the mere idea of this was astonishing, and, of course, it was.

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "And what did you say to that?"

"Well, at first the term's real meaning in this day and age passed me by, but I soon realized that she wanted to go on a date with me."

"Yes, yes, and after you found that out?" Crowley asked, a little surprised by his interest in the subject, and continued cutting the vegetable nonchalantly.

Aziraphale cleared his throat nervously. "I, uh, told her that I was gay and I had an, um, partner," he mumbled. Crowley was a little startled by this, but continued cutting. "She didn't seem to believe me, so I showed her the picture of you that I have in my wallet."

That was about when the knife in Crowley's grip slipped and sliced into his pointer finger.

"_Bugger_," he hissed, squeezing the bleeding digit.

Aziraphale jumped up from the couch and moved into the kitchen. "Are you alright?" he asked, real worry tinting his voice.

"Yes," hissed Crowley, and he winced as the cut sewed itself up and disappeared.

Aziraphale stared at the mess that had been made in the kitchen, now including the blood that had gotten on the counter. "Hmm…maybe a small little miracle won't hurt anybody." He waved his hand and the kitchen cleaned itself of the poor excuse for cooking that Crowley had been attempting, to be replaced with a five star meal.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, a small smile pulling at the side of his mouth. He didn't say anything about it though, and the angel relaxed slightly. There was still the matter of _why_ Crowley had cut his finger, and Crowley was not about to let that one slide by without discussion. But his stomach was growling, a mere figure of speech in this case because demons and angels didn't need to eat, out of habit.

They filled their plates and sat down at the nice dining table that was off to one side of the room. Aziraphale had been here only a few times before, and Crowley noticed him staring at the beautiful houseplants as they started eating.

"These plants are fabulous. Did you use magic to get them like that or something else demonic?"

Crowley smiled a dangerous smile. "Let's just say that they won't even try to wilt. They're too frightened of me." He paused. "Speaking of which, I think it is about time for my rounds."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't ask exactly what his_ rounds_ were. They ate in silence for a few minutes, and Crowley was quite impressed by how the angel's miracle food tasted. It was extremely _good._ Usually skills like that involving the angel's miracles didn't go so well. The food always looked fabulous, but ended up tasting like dust. Crowley was better at making good food appear, and his fridge was pretty good at having some great food in it at all times.

Crowley decided that it was probably a good idea to get right to what was bothering him instead of letting it hang over their heads, because it w_as_ bothering him.

"Why in the name of Go- Sa- Somebody, did you show that girl my picture?" Crowley asked without any prelude.

"Well, dear, your picture just happened to be the only one I have in my wallet," the angel stated calmly.

Crowley exhaled loudly. "Why, might I ask, do you have a picture of me _in your wallet?_"

Aziraphale pondered this for a moment. Crowley wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a blush work its way up the angel's face. "I can't remember how it got there. I think over time it just sort of manifested itself there," he said.

"You do realize that most of our magic comes from a whim, so the only way a picture of me _appeared _in your wallet was because deep down you wanted it there."

Aziraphale didn't seem to have a response to this, and the demon hissed. "Can I see this picture?"

Aziraphale pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his outdated pants. The wallet had seen better days, and was almost in two separate pieces. Crowley suspected that the only reason that it was still living was the angel's sheer willpower. He opened it and handed it to Crowley, his face showing nervousness and, if Crowley was guessing right, fear.

"Don't get fingerprints on the pictures, dear," mumbled Aziraphale.

Crowley just glared at the offending angel. He looked down in the wallet in his hands. There was a little plastic pull-out piece that was in most older wallets for holding pictures, and Crowley flipped it out. He was rather frightened by what was in each pocket.

There was not _one_ picture of him in the wallet, there were _ten_. And Crowley knew at once that these were not just randomly magiked into being. All of them were taken when Crowley wasn't looking. A few had Aziraphale in them, and you could tell that he was taking the pictures trying to get the both of them in the shot without Crowley noticing. In all of them Crowley had normal expressions on his face; annoyance, an evil grin here and there.

But there was one picture that caught Crowley off guard and he hissed in surprise. Crowley was staring right at the camera and there was a smile of _actual happiness_ on his face. It would be hard to tell that he was a demon in that picture. In fact, his smile was almost _loving._

Crowley looked up from the wallet, a look of utter fear on his features. There was something wrong with this, and Crowley was going to get to the source.

"First, I had no idea that you owned a camera," questioned Crowley. "Or, for that matter, knew how to work one."

Aziraphale shrugged, faking nonchalance. "I purchased one a few years back and read the instruction manual. It was tricky at first, but I figured it out."

Crowley looked back down at the wallet in disbelief. "_Why?"_ he managed to hiss.

The angel was looking down at his plate, and Crowley could not tell what expression was there. "If I didn't know better I would think that you were worshipping me instead of Him," Crowley mumbled.

When Aziraphale looked back up Crowley could swear he saw the remains of a few shed tears on the angel's face. It alarmed him. Aziraphale snatched the wallet back, carefully folding the picture holders back in place, and he pocketed the wallet. His face remained impassive as he stood from his chair.

"I think I need to leave, Crowley," the angel said steadily.

"Oh, come on, I just saw evidence of actual _stalking_ and you are going to leave and not explain it to me?" hissed Crowley, also standing from his chair.

"I'm afraid I can't," Aziraphale replied vaguely. "If I told you the truth it would not be good for either of us."

The demon did not like the sound of that one bit. "Why did you tell me about the pictures, then?" he demanded.

"I do not like keeping secrets, my dear."

"How long have those pictures been there?" asked Crowley.

The angel thought about it for a moment. "I believe since they started making color cameras cheap."

Crowley was lost for words, and Aziraphale excused himself from the flat, kindly thanking Crowley for the meal. The click of the door to the flat was more ominous than it should have been, and Crowley found himself sad for some reason. And he was still very freaked out about the pictures. What did this mean? He had never seen behavior like that from the angel before, and wondered vaguely if angels could go insane.

**I would really appreciate some reviews... I will withhold the next chapter until I get at least one. I have it sitting here waiting, so come on now, you can do it... *flashes creepy smile***


	2. Alcohol for Angels

**Thanks for reviewing! Here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy!**

Aziraphale had no idea why he had shown the pictures to the demon. Maybe it had been because there were things that he wanted to tell Crowley, but just couldn't. He regretted it now, though, as he walked back to his bookshop in the dark. He was already missing the demon, and he told himself that that was unhealthy and wrong, but you really can't keep yourself from feeling certain emotions, now can you?

The bell chimed as Aziraphale opened the door to his shop. The smell of old books drifted to his nose and it calmed him somehow. He took a deep breath and walked up the stairs in the back room of the shop. There was a tiny little apartment up there were there was one bed, one bathroom, and a tiny kitchen that didn't work. It was his home, and even though the demon had better accommodations, he loved his bookshop more than anything (well, most things).

Aziraphale collapsed on the bed unceremoniously. He usually didn't partake in the act of slumber, but he felt he needed it tonight. It had been a nerve-wracking day yesterday, and he was feeling emotional tonight. He pulled out his wallet and looked at the pictures of the demon. He remembered each one of them, and especially loved the one at the bottom.

They had been drunk and Crowley didn't seem to mind Aziraphale snapping a quick photo of him. He had smiled in the most glorious way, and it only would have happened when he was roaring drunk. Aziraphale had almost told him then and there what was going on inside of him, but he had been too drunk to keep his brain on track. They had ended up passed out together in the back of his bookshop and neither really remembered what had happened the night before, although Aziraphale did remember the picture he had snapped.

It had taken quite a long time for Aziraphale to realize what was going on, and even longer to actually except it. At first, he had just written it off as loyalty after being together so long, but he realized shortly that his thoughts wandered more than just camaraderie would allow. He knew that if he took action on his feelings he would probably get in a lot of trouble from _up there_, not to mention from Crowley himself. These were the times that he really hated the two teams that played in the ever-lasting game of Good v Evil.

As an angel you were required to love everyone and everything, but this Principality found that he had his favorites. His bookshop, for one. He also loved little restaurants and old books, and sushi. There was one thing that he never expected to add to his list of Favorites, and just the idea of admitting it aloud made him want to hand over his halo and harp (not that any angels actually had these items).

Aziraphale had grown way too fond of the demon. He had had no idea how to deal with this strange feeling, so he contented himself with taking pictures and carrying them around with him. He looked at them when he was feeling down in the dumps, and right before the end of the world he had looked at them much more than usual. He had been terrified that the Apocalypse would happen and separate him and the demon forever, so he had spent long bits of time trying to permanently memorize every part of that face.

He knew that Crowley would never return the sentiment. He was, after all, a demon, but Aziraphale spent plenty of time pondering what would happen if he did. He remembered telling that nice woman that he was gay, and the expression on her face. It had made it seem all real to him, but when he thought about it he wasn't really _gay._ Angels and demons didn't really have true sexes, they just chose what corporation they wanted to inhabit, and what it would look like. Until now Aziraphale hadn't even realized that feelings of actual human longing and desire were possible, but now he knew it was all too real. It probably came from being on Earth for so long, but he really didn't mind it.

Oh dear, but now he had ruined it all by showing Crowley the pictures of him in Aziraphale's wallet. He would have to come up with a reason as to why the pictures had been there, and he really couldn't stand losing the demon. Oh, what would he do? Aziraphale solved the problem for the moment by falling into a deep sleep.

XxX

Crowley was being more vicious than usual to the houseplants this morning, taking out his pent up frustration on them. He didn't even know why he was in such a tizzy, but it felt good to threaten plants when he was angy. At least they would be more likely to grow even prettier.

There was something up with the angel, and Crowley desperately wanted to find out what. He didn't really know why he cared so much, but he did, especially if it had something to do with Crowley himself, and he felt that it did.

He was jolted out of his deep thoughts by the phone ringing. He stood up to answer it.

"Hallo?"

"H-hello? Crowley?"

"Crowley speaking."

"Hmm…Well, I was wondering whether or not you wanted to, I don't know; feed the ducks in St. James or something today?" Aziraphale asked from the other end.

"Uh, sure," responded Crowley, not really having anything else to do, and really wanting to get some answers out of the angel. Maybe he could convince Aziraphale to get drunk, and then he could pry some more.

"Great. See you there in about, oh, twenty minutes?"

"Mhmm." He placed the phone back on the receiver.

Crowley padded to the bedroom and looked at himself in the full length mirror. Crowley was all about appearances, and silk pajamas were not the right attire for feeding the ducks in August. He gestured to himself and his clothing was changed into something more somber, consisting of dark colors and deep reds. He was dashing.

Crowley climbed into the Bentley, inhaling deeply, immensely enjoying the smell of the fine leather. He really did love his Bentley, and he was sure to take great care of it.

Aziraphale was already at the pond when Crowley got there. He was feeding them small chunks of a bagel in his hands. The angel was looking intensely at the water, as if he was going to memorize the bubbles and ripples, and there was a frown etched into his features. Crowley was surprised by how this deep frown of sadness and concentration made the angel look strangely tragic, and you could really see the angelic glow on his features. Crowley paused before he got out of the car, and he was absolutely sure he felt his heart _skip_. He intently hoped that he wasn't going to die and need a new corporation… This one seemed to be malfunctioning.

Aziraphale looked up when he heard Crowley close his car door, and a small smile cut through the sorrow on his face. Crowley remembered that he needed bread, and a small loaf of pumpernickel appeared in his hands. He took his place beside the angel and began feeding the ducks like they always did. It was a ritual, and it calmed them somehow, even in the darkest of hours, to have this thing that constantly stayed the same.

"Did you get home okay last night?" Crowley asked. He knew that the question was pointless as the angel was standing here unscathed, but it was a social convention that humans liked to use, so Crowley thought he'd recycle it.

"Yes, fine," murmured Aziraphale, throwing a piece of bagel at a duck a little harder than necessary. The duck quacked loudly and paddled away, slightly disgruntled.

Crowley watched the angel out of the corner of his eye. Aziraphale's face was still slightly pinched, and his movements were stiff and nervous. There was _definitely_ something wrong, and Crowley got more and more worried as the time progressed.

"Okay, angel, we are going to go into the back of your bookshop and get roaring drunk," hissed Crowley, grabbing the protesting angel by an arm and hauling him to the Bentley. They drove in silence to the small shop, Crowley zigzagging in and out of traffic with alarming accuracy. Aziraphale clutched his armrests tightly.

XxX

"It's not green, you just think it's green!" insisted the demon, who's intoxication levels were slowly rising.

"Then waddas that make us?"

Crowley paused, the bottle halfway to his lips. "I dunno…" he said vaguely.

"The point is, we are imro-imorat- we live a really, really long time, and we should take advannage o' that."

Crowley frowned. "And we haven't been doin' that?"

Aziraphale tried to focus in on the demon in front of him. "Nonononono," he said, wagging his finger, and then staring at the finger he had raised. He started giggling.

"What're you doing?" asked Crowley, watching the angel in awe.

Aziraphale paused, looking at Crowley intently. He put his finger down. "You know, demon, you're in my wallet," he said, completely forgetting his previous topic.

"I'm aware of that," Crowley said, his brow furrowing. "Why'm I in your wallet?"

Aziraphale smiled knowingly. "I can't tell you that, silly, silly, Crow-u-lie," he slurred, wagging his finger again. He squinted at Crowley who ran a hand through his hair self-consciously.

The angel smiled dreamily. "You're a pretty demon," Aziraphale muttered, his smile turning sad. "But this is a dream, and I can only say stuff like this in dreams."

Crowley froze. Alarm wormed its way through his intoxication. "Pretty? What do you mean?"

"Pretty, pretty, pretty little demon!"

Crowley really didn't have anything to say to that, and the alcohol in his system had a numbing effect.

Aziraphale looked around the room and then leaned in closer to Crowley, beckoning him closer to whisper in his ear. "I can't tell you this in real life, but since this is probly a dream I will. I have you in my wallet because I like to look at your picture when I'm feeling melac-, menco-, sad."

Again, silence from the demon.

"And this isn't the first of my dreams you've showed up in."

"You-you dream 'bout me?"

"Mhmm…It's because I _luuurrve_ you." Aziraphale giggled and then pointed at Crowley. "You, mister demon."

"We're both drunk. All this stuff you're saying isn't true," mumbled Crowley shaking his head back and forth. He was very surprised when Aziraphale caught his chin in his manicured hand to stop him shaking it.

"Don't say that," the angel said sharply, still holding Crowley's chin. He gazed into Crowley's eyes with a determined look, and before the demon had time to react the angel leaned across the table, pressing his lips tightly to Crowley's. The demon froze in pure shock. His heart also missed a beat and his face flushed, which confused the hell out of him.

Aziraphale broke the kiss, sitting back in his chair as though nothing had happened. Without alerting Aziraphale, Crowley removed the alcohol from his bloodstream. He did not want to pass out without remembering this, because something very, for lack of a better word, _odd_ had just happened. He stared at the angel who had fallen asleep with his head on his arms on the table.

"So that's why you have pictures of me in your wallet. Geez, what happens now?" Crowley murmured to the sleeping angel. "Dammit, angel, you might have just ruined everything."

He looked out the grungy little window in the back of the room to find that, not only had it gotten very dark, but it was also pouring down rain. He glanced at the couch in the back of the room and decided that he would crash there for the night. Of course there was a nice sheet set and pillow in the first cupboard that Crowley opened, and he was soon fast asleep on the couch, wondering what had just happened and why it had happened to him.

**Mwa-ha-ha! Same rules go for the next chapter...I have it, I'm just waiting for a few reviews...**


	3. Breakfast for Two

**Okay, you guys are doing okay with the reviews... And I just wanted to post this chapter so badly... All readers that don't know me personally please ignore this scream of outrage. One of my friends found me and I am quite angry at them.**

**STOP RIGHT THERE, PAULA! YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ FURTHER! DON'T DO IT!**

**Anyways... Enjoy the story...**

Aziraphale's head was pounding, and he had the most horrible taste in his mouth. He raised his head and found that he had fallen asleep on the table in the back to the shop. Jeez, was his neck sore. He thought about it and the neck soreness went away, along with the hangover. He had had the oddest dream last night. He had told Crowley that he loved him and then _kissed_ him. Well, as long as it was only a dream he would be fine. It was quite depressing, really; only able to express your true feelings in a dream.

Aziraphale glanced up at the light streaming through the window. So it was morning on a Tuesday, Aziraphale thought. He glanced at the couch under the window and nearly fell out of his chair. Crowley was sleeping on the couch, under sheets and a pillow that Aziraphale had never seen before.

He stirred and sat up, and Aziraphale smiled at the fact that he had still worn his sunglass while he was s_leeping_.

"Ugh, angel, what time is it?" he grumbled, running a hand through his slightly messed up hair which immediately fixed itself.

Aziraphale glanced at his watch. "Nine o' clock."

Crowley stood up from the couch, slipping into his shoes that were placed right by the couch. "You wanna do breakfast or something?" Crowley asked, straightening his jacket.

"I'd love to," responded Aziraphale, standing up and waving a hand at his wrinkled clothing, which immediately cleaned and straightened themselves. Sometimes it was really nice being an angel.

They exited the shop and Aziraphale climbed into the passenger side of the Bentley. Crowley gestured at the key in the ignition and it turned.

"Why can't you just reach down and turn the key?" asked Aziraphale, waving a manicured hand in exasperation.

Crowley shrugged. "Because I don't have to," he said simply, pulling the Bentley out onto the street. He immediately started driving extremely fast and Aziraphale had to grip his armrests for comfort.

"Oh dear! Watch it, you almost hit that sign! Pedestrian!"

They made it to the restaurant alive, much to the relief of Aziraphale. It was a nice little place that the angel knew and loved, and he was surprised that Crowley had decided to take them here. Crowley wasn't much for little places like this.

"I do love this place," said Aziraphale, a smile on his face as they walked through the door. They were greeted by a young girl wearing a flowery dress that seemed to be the work attire for the waitresses that worked here. The dresses were majorly outdated, but Aziraphale, who was stuck in the 1950's didn't seem to care.

"Table for two?" she asked with a large seemingly sincere smile on her face. "How are you today, Mr. Fell?"

The angel smiled. "I am quite well today, and yes we need a table for two."

The girl nodded and led them to a small booth in the corner of the restaurant. "Have a nice meal. Your server will be with you shortly," the girl said, leaving to go back to the front.

"I had no idea that you liked this place," Aziraphale said, flipping through a menu even though he already knew that he was going to order his regular breakfast.

"Well, I don't particularly favor this place, but I knew that you adore it, so here we are," Crowley responded, also flipping open his menu.

They both ordered tea from the waitress that also knew Aziraphale's name. As they were sitting there waiting for their food to come, Aziraphale noticed that Crowley was acting strangely. He kept frowning, and he kept staring at the angel when Crowley thought he wasn't looking.

Finally Crowley got up the courage to say what had been bugging him. "Do you remember anything that happened last night?" he asked nonchalantly, but Aziraphale could hear the worry behind it.

"Not really," responded the angel, trying to grasp actually memories of the night before. It was all a haze and all he could really remember was that dream, and there was no way that he was explaining _that_ to Crowley.

The demon scratched his chin and removed his glasses momentarily to rub his eyes, and Aziraphale saw a flash of bright yellow before Crowley put the glasses back on. "Well, there were some interesting events last night that happened when we were very drunk. Although I'm pretty sure you were way more inebriated than I was."

"Really?" asked Aziraphale.

"I sobered up as soon as it happened so that I wouldn't forget. I need to talk to you about some of the things you said and did."

Aziraphale paled. "Oh dear. What did I do?"

Crowley took a deep breath. "First you said that the reason you have so many pictures of me in your wallet was because you like to look at me when you're sad."

Aziraphale remained silent, not knowing how to respond to that.

"Second, you said that you '_luuurrrved'_ me. Well, as you can imagine I was a little worried at that point, not knowing what I should do. Then you decided to grab my chin and _kiss_ me." Crowley said this as if he was forecasting the weather, but Aziraphale had known him long enough to tell that he was slightly distressed.

"Well, that explains why my dream last night was more realistic than usual," mumbled the angel, looking intently at his hands that were resting in his lap. "I'm very sorry, dear Crowley."

"They say that the words of a drunken man are merely the thoughts of a sober one," Crowley stated, picking up a silver spoon and twirling it in his hand absentmindedly.

Aziraphale put his head in his hands and groaned. "Well, whoever said that knows what they're talking about." Aziraphale couldn't lie at this point and make it sound convincing. Crowley was bound to find out eventually after seeing the pictures in Aziraphale's wallet.

"What exactly does that mean, angel?" asked the demon, his voice soft.

Aziraphale felt the tears well up in his eyes. "It means that I've been harboring feelings for you, my dear," he said, looking up at the astonished demon. "I have been dealing with this for years now, and I guess that it finally decided to rear its head."

Crowley frowned. "But you're an angel. You're supposed to love everything."

Aziraphale shook his head sadly. "This is different, Crowley. And you of all people-, uh, _beings,_ know that I am not your usual angel."

Crowley opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the waitress bringing their food out and setting it down on the table in front of them. It did smell delightful.

The young waitress glanced over at Crowley who was still staring intently at Aziraphale.

"Mr. Aziraphale, I meant to ask you earlier, but who is your friend?"

The angel was jolted out of his thoughts. "Oh, this is Anthony Crowley, my, uh, business partner."

"Hello, Mr. Crowley. I like your sunglasses," she said sweetly, and Aziraphale's gaze snapped in her direction. Crowley didn't even look at her as he was still looking at Aziraphale with a blank expression on his face. He wasn't positive, but Aziraphale thought that girl was trying to _flirt_ with him. This made the angel's blood start to boil.

"Um, I think I need a glass of ice water," Aziraphale told the waitress pointedly.

She broke her gaze from Crowley and left to go get the glass of water that the angel had asked for.

They both started to eat in silence, their delicate conversation broken by the distraction. The waitress came back and set the glass of water in front of Aziraphale and left quickly, obviously not wanting to try her luck any further.

"Does Heaven know?" Crowley asked, breaking the silence.

"Not that I am aware of, and I don't know if they would say anything if they did," responded Aziraphale.

"I need to use the Gents, I shall be right back," Crowley said, getting up from the table and hurrying to the bathroom on the other side of the restaurant.

Their waitress came back to check on them and saw that Crowley was not at the table. She glanced around and then leaned in closer to Aziraphale.

"Hey, do you know if your friend is single or not and if he wants a girlfriend?" she asked in a whisper. "I think he is really handsome."

Aziraphale resisted the urge to shoo her away. "Well, my dear lady, I don't think he is interested in women."

"You mean he's gay?"

"Well, I couldn't say for sure, but from what he has said to me, yes."

The waitress huffed and walked away. Aziraphale thought about lowering her tip, but he was an angel after all, and she probably needed the money.

This ruse had really been helpful so far. Of course, Aziraphale desperately wished that it wasn't a ruse…

XxX

Crowley was in a panic. The breakfast had started okay and he had told Aziraphale what had happened last night without incident, but then the angel had verified his drunken confessions. Aziraphale the angel was in love with Crowley the demon, and it made Crowley want to run and hide.

Crowley really had no idea what he felt on the matter, and demons really weren't good at the whole feelings thing anyways. He had had a really odd feeling in the pit of his stomach and had wanted to get away from the table as fast as he could, and now here he was, standing in front of a sink in the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face and staring in the mirror.

There was something wrong with him. Something inside his demon center had broken, and now he was malfunctioning. When the food had come he had barely noticed it, and he was sure that Aziraphale had spoken to someone, but if anyone was to ask him what he had said and who he had said it to, Crowley would have drawn a blank.

Time ticked by and Crowley realized that Aziraphale would be wondering what had happened to him if he remained in here much longer. He would have to face the angel one way or another. Crowley decided he needed more data to go from if he was to make a decision on anything, and he formulated a small plan in his head. It wasn't much, and it could either break him or ruin him, but he had to do it for the sake of the both of them. Either way he was doomed…

Crowley exited the bathroom, making sure to look as normal as possible as he walked back to the table. Aziraphale looked up from his food.

"Are you alright, my dear?"

"Yes, but I would like to leave now." Crowley placed a few bills much larger than the actual price of their meal on the table and dragged Aziraphale out of the restaurant.

Aziraphale had a question written on his face but he didn't say anything. There was a small bench near the building that was empty, and Crowley sat down at it, leaving enough space so that Aziraphale could sit next to him.

"I have been thinking about everything that has happened in the past two days and have decided that I need more to think about," began Crowley. Aziraphale sat in silence, waiting to hear where this was going. "Nothing that has happened has repulsed me in any way, as I thought it might, and I have not been able to gauge my reactions and feelings correctly. I would like to be able to do so on my own will."

Aziraphale's expression was questioning, and Crowley almost lost heart in what he was about to do, but he had told himself that he wouldn't chicken out. Before the angel had time to react Crowley grabbed the collar of Aziraphale's fur coat and pulled him closer, kissing him with fervor.

Neither had expected the sparks of energy and magic that pulsed through them at contact. The kiss deepened, and a once startled Aziraphale was now clinging on to Crowley in desperation, and Crowley's hands tightened on the angel's collar. Crowley had never felt anything like this, and the sensation was addicting. There was no one else in the world of Crowley but _his_ angel.

They broke apart all too soon, and both were breathing deeply despite not really needing to breathe at all. Both were flushed.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that," murmured the angel, harboring a small smile. Crowley noticed that the angel was _quite_ attractive with a slight flush on his face, and it astonished him that he was thinking that, but he was. He noticed that they hadn't let go of one another, and he didn't make a move to pull away further. He quite liked the sensation.

What had happened to him? He was a demon, and here he was falling…falling in _love_ with an _angel_. This was wrong on so many levels, and yet it felt so _right_. Wasn't there something about opposites attracting one another? He knew that Hell would be okay with it if he told them that he was trying to tempt an angel, but Heaven would not take Aziraphale's fraternizing with the enemy as well.

"Did you get good results from your experiment?" Aziraphale asked.

"Depends on what you think is a good result," he mumbled. "The results worry me, that's all."

"Why?"

"Can you imagine what Heaven and Hell would think?"

Aziraphale looked around him and his voice quieted. "At the moment, I really don't care what Heaven and Hell think," he murmured in a voice that was barely audible. "I thought that you would never even think to return my affections. I didn't even know that it was possible for a demon!"

Crowley thought about this. "I can say that I am surprised too. At first I thought that my corporation was malfunctioning, but now I know differently…"

Aziraphale's smile grew, and the angel looked like he was literally glowing. Crowley was surprised that his fail of a compliment could make the angel so happy.

"Oh, dammit, angel, what do we do now? You have ruined me!" Crowley hissed, resting his head on the angel's shoulder. He felt Aziraphale chuckle.

Aziraphale wrapped his arms gently around Crowley's waist. It was a comforting gesture and Crowley felt himself relax slightly.

"There is nothing we can do about Them. They haven't bothered us about preventing the apocalypse, so I'm going to assume They don't particularly care what we do right now. Let's take advantage of that," Aziraphale said, and Crowley felt a rush of pride for the angel.

Crowley found his lips on the angel's for a second time in so many minutes, this time both of them just as desperate for the contact. This time Crowley _knew _that something magical was going on between them; something that had never happened between an angel and a demon before. Aziraphale broke away from Crowley to whisper into his ear.

"We should continue this elsewhere; we are attracting too much attention."

Crowley glanced around to see that there were indeed some people looking at them with slightly offended expressions. No matter who you were, making out in public wasn't the most polite thing to do, especially in this more family-friendly part of town.

"Your place or mine?" Crowley asked, a suggestive smile on his face. Aziraphale blushed.

**Find out in the next chapter what happens right after this...And review if you would like to find out!**


	4. Mountain Dew

**And here goes another chapter that I sincerely hope that I don't screw up. Please enjoy... AND PAULA GO AWAY...ignore that if you aren't Paula.**

The afternoon found them sitting on the couch in Crowley's flat, watching some pointless sitcom that Crowley had chosen. They weren't really watching it, so it served as background noise more than anything else.

"Angel, where do we go from here? We've known each other since Creation. We know pretty much everything there is to know about the other, and we have seen each other's best and worst."

Aziraphale looked thoughtful. "I don't know… We can't have seen everything. We are naturally a little guarded around each other because we _are_ an angel and a demon."

Crowley looked frustrated. "I just don't want you to get in trouble because of me. It's not worth it…_I'm _not worth it."

Aziraphale shook his head and placed a hand on the demon's shoulder. "My dear, I have spent plenty of time thinking about this, and I know exactly the risks I would be taking. If they ask I will just tell them that I think that I may be able to redeem you."

They both turned as the sound on the television got unexpectedly louder.

"_CROWLEY."_

Crowley's shoulders sagged. "Yes?"

_"WE HAVE REASON TO BELIEVE THAT YOU HAVE A CLOSE RELATIONSHIP WITH AN ANGEL."_

"Well, I can explain that if you want me…" he began but was interrupted by the television. Aziraphale was perfectly silent and still on the couch next to him. They didn't seem to know that Crowley wasn't alone.

"_CROWLEY, WE DON'T NEED AN EXPLANATION. WE SHALL TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THIS. WE WANT YOU TO MAKE THE ANGEL FALL, CROWLEY. DO WHAT YOU MUST TO MAKE THIS HAPPEN."_

Crowley smiled at Aziraphale. "I shall do what I must. Thank you."

The television went back to its normal volume and scheduled programming. Crowley leaned back into the cushions, his tension relaxing.

"What are you going to do about that, Crowley?" Aziraphale asked, concern in his voice.

Crowley shrugged. "I am going to use that order as an excuse to be with you."

Aziraphale smiled. "And my side will think that I am trying to redeem you! Perfect." They were both very happy with this, as it gave them an excuse to be together. In pure excitement Aziraphale placed his hands on either side of Crowley's face and kissed him. Gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide, that one…

Crowley couldn't hold back the growl of pleasure that escaped from his throat, and he wrapped his arms around the angel, keeping Aziraphale pressed tightly against him. The light kiss turned to a passionate embrace, and when Crowley felt Aziraphale's lips part slightly he tried his luck and slipped his tongue into the angel's mouth. Aziraphale moaned and relaxed, leaning into Crowley, his arms moving from the sides of the demon's face to wrap around the back of his neck.

Crowley allowed Aziraphale to push him back on the couch, pulling the angel with him so that he was lying on top of Crowley as they continued to kiss.

Aziraphale pulled his mouth away. "I love you, Crowley," he murmured as the demon began to kiss his jawline.

"And I love you, you ineffable angel," Crowley hissed as his mouth moved back to cover the angel's. It was something that neither of them had ever expected to hear coming from the demon's mouth, but it was perfect regardless. Crowley had realized that this feeling was not brand new. It had been sitting there for quite some time unheeded, and here it was now, out in the open as soon as it had been encouraged just a little bit.

Aziraphale felt Crowley begin to unbutton his shirt and he placed a hand over Crowley's.

"Oh dear, I don't know if I am quite ready for that, Crowley."

Crowley's glasses had disappeared at some point and now he was looking at Aziraphale with those brilliant yellow eyes. "Bloody hell, angel, first you tempt the hell out of me and then you say you can't do it?" He kissed the angel's neck again. "I need you," he rasped, his mouth moving as it remained pressed to Aziraphale's neck. Crowley didn't know that he was even ready yet, but it never hurt to give the angel a little grief now and again.

"I am not the one doing the tempting," Aziraphale complained, his eyes fluttering closed at the demon's touch.

Crowley pulled back slightly. "Look who is lying on top of whom," he chuckled. "It's okay, angel, we don't have to do anything more than this tonight."

Aziraphale relaxed and allowed Crowley to kiss him. His hands entangled in Crowley's dark hair, and he felt like he was going to melt right into the demon that was kissing him so fiercely. And he was definitely starting to have second thoughts about not being ready. Before he could say anything to Crowley, though, the demon had stopped moving and smiled.

"I have an idea," Crowley said, and Aziraphale lifted himself off of the demon so that he could sit up.

"And what is that?"

"Can I groom your wings?" he asked, an eager smile on his face. Aziraphale had to admit that the idea sounded appealing. Of course now Aziraphale would have to take off his shirt if he didn't want to ruin it, but that was okay. He pulled it off and unfurled his gloriously white wings.

They shifted so that Crowley was sitting behind the angel, and Crowley started preening the slightly mussed feathers. Aziraphale closed his eyes at the marvelous sensation. He didn't groom his wings as much as he probably should and they were a little ruffled.

"I never understood what it is with you angels," Crowley mumbled as he worked. "You have these gorgeous white wings and you don't take proper care of them."

"You don't think that demons have gorgeous wings? Your wings aren't that different from mine despite the fact that they are black instead of white."

Crowley sighed. "My wings used to be white, you know. A long time ago, before I Fell."

Aziraphale was surprised to hear how soft Crowley's tone had become. The angel turned around so that he was facing Crowley.

"I want to see your wings," Aziraphale said. Crowley looked a little surprised by this, but nodded.

"Um, alright." He took off his jacket and then slowly unbuttoned his black shirt, pulling it off around his shoulders. Aziraphale found himself staring at Crowley's toned chest and pale skin. Then he was distracted by dark feathers unfurling from behind the demon.

Aziraphale's unneeded breath stopped in his throat. "Wow," he whispered. Crowley's wings were dark as night and almost shone in the lighting of the room. They were glossy and every feather was in place. Aziraphale suspected that they were very silky soft.

"Unlike you, I take care of my wings," Crowley chuckled as Aziraphale stared. He had seen the demon's wings before, but was never able to admire them like this, in this kind of setting.

"Hey, now, I have lots of more important things to do than sitting down and grooming wings that I don't see on a daily basis."

"What important things? Worshipping books?" Crowley was smiling that slightly demonic smile that Aziraphale decided he loved.

"Hey," Aziraphale responded, turning sharply so that Crowley got a face full of white feathers.

"Pfft!" was his response. He growled and lunged at the angel, pinning him on the couch. Aziraphale was now not only leaning back on the couch, but now was resting on his large, feathery wings. Aziraphale looked up at the demon that looked quite fierce with his dark wings out behind him and his hair ruffled, and they were soon both laughing.

"Why'd you do that?" Crowley asked, pulling a white feather from his hair.

"Because, my dear, it is fun."

And then all conversation stopped as they resumed kissing.

XxX

Crowley sped down the road in his black Bentley, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. There were so many thoughts floating through his head that he felt a headache coming on. These feelings that had most recently assaulted him were so new to him that he didn't know what to think of them. All he knew was that kissing the angel had been _amazing_. It was not like anything else that Crowley had experienced, and he had experienced _a lot_.

He had a few theories about the whole thing. People tended to desire what was foreign or what they couldn't have. Aziraphale was definitely foreign, and even though it wasn't as if Hell forbade Crowley from being friends with him they sure didn't put up signs that say, "Go Right Ahead."

Another thing that was odd was the feelings he had felt when he kissed Aziraphale. It wasn't as if Crowley hadn't kissed anyone before. He had had his share of human women (he wouldn't admit it but there had been a few men too) over the years, but nothing had compared to the first time he had kissed the angel when sober. Something magical had happened, quite literally. Crowley would have to describe it as sparks of magic. Crowley figured it had something to do with their angel/demon differences, and he decided that he was going to learn more about that…

Crowley wondered why the angel would choose to like somebody like him. He was against everything that most angels stood for, and he couldn't really think of any good qualities he possessed. Normally a demon was very self-centered and sure of themselves, but Crowley found, when it came to Aziraphale, he was less confident. He wanted to prove himself, to show the angel that he wasn't your average demon. Of course, he had to do this while also proving to Hell that he _was_ your average demon.

Crowley's mind drifted to the image of Aziraphale, his light colored hair that hung in gentle curls from his head, stopping just above his blue eyes that always held such care for everything in them, and those soft lips that easily curved into a gentle smile. Crowley even liked the angel's clothing, outdated as it was. It looked good on him, and if anyone could pull it off it was the angel.

Crowley was so busy thinking all of this that he did not see the large truck that came barreling out from a side street, its driver a teenager that had just downed a Mountain Dew. He only noticed it once it had rammed into the side of his Bentley, and the car jerked sideways, the door that the truck had hit buckling inward. He was only able to swear once before he was knocked unconscious, his head slamming into the window.

The small car was sent rolling off the road and landed with a massive splash into the water of the lake. When the car landed in the water, had he been conscious, he would have been able to escape easily, but he remained in the car as it sunk slowly. He was still unconscious when the ambulance and fire trucks pulled his car out of the water and found that he was miraculously alive. They strapped him to a stretcher, rolled him into the ambulance, and drove him rapidly to the hospital for intensive care.

They found the one number in his contact book that seemed useful and they called it immediately.

**Please oh please review. I love everyone who reviews and lets me know they care enough to just click that button right there and type a few words... Don't make me put the Fear of Me in you...**


	5. Such A Looker

**Sorry 'bout the cliffhanger, but it really is soooo much fun! Keeps 'em wanting more!**

Aziraphale was reading a book. Well, the more accurate term would be staring at one sentence of a book without actually reading it. There were too many thoughts running through his head.

Last night had been one of the best nights that the angel could remember. He had been accepted by Crowley, and Crowley had feelings in return for Aziraphale. It was something that, if the angel didn't know better, could have been a dream. He kept touching his lips as the memory of Crowley's kisses spun in his head.

Aziraphale jumped a good meter when he heard a very loud melodious twang. There was a large beam of light in the middle of the back room of his bookshop.

"Aziraphale?" asked the voice of the Metatron.

"Um, yes?" Aziraphale asked a touch too innocently.

"We would like to ask you what the meaning of some of your recent activities is. You have been with one demon named Crowley for large amounts of time and have engaged in some interesting activities for an angel and a demon to be participating in. If we knew any better we would say that these activities were _unangelic._"

Aziraphale paused, trying to come up with something plausible he could say to them without it being taken the wrong way. And he sure couldn't tell them the _truth_.

"Well, I have seen things in him that other demons do not have, and I believe that he is redeemable."

There was a pause from the other end and Aziraphale waited anxiously.

"Hmm…Well, according to our records this one's Fall wasn't as severe as the others' had been. If you really think that you can make him see the Light, then by all means…"

Aziraphale resisted the urge to cheer, and he politely bid farewell to the Metatron. The line closed and the light from Above disappeared. The angel was about to sit back in his chair when the phone line began to ring. He picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Mr. Aziraphale?" asked a calm female voice that sounded as if calm was the only emotion available to it.

"Yes?"

"Do you know Mr. A. J. Crowley?"

Oh dear, what did he do this time? "Yes, he is my good friend."

There was barely a pause. "Mr. Crowley has been in a severe car accident and has suffered a large amount of injuries. He is alive, but we just pulled his car out of a lake."

Aziraphale was not expecting this, and worry snaked into his brain. "Where is he?"

"Here at St. Barnaby's twenty-four hour emergency hospital. We can give you the address and directions if you need them."

Aziraphale remembered the place quite well and didn't need directions. "Thank you, ma'am, I shall be there shortly." He hung up and walked out of the bookshop. Unfortunately since he could not get a ride from Crowley he would have to take the bus.

He hadn't ridden the bus in quite a long time. Crowley had always driven him if there had been a place where they really needed to go. Other than that Aziraphale didn't really travel much. He didn't really like using automobiles. He decided that driving was not something that he was interested in learning, and Crowley had now given him an even greater reason not to get behind the wheel.

Aziraphale waited calmly at the corner for the bus to come, a look of complete contentment on his features despite the worry that was clouding his thoughts. He knew that Crowley couldn't die, but a car crash makes anybody nervous no matter if you happen to be supernatural or not. A young couple was also standing there waiting, and a little old lady that smelled like moth balls and kept whispering into her handbag.

The bus pulled up and the people waiting slowly filed in. Aziraphale calmly gave the bus fee to the driver and found an empty seat near the back of the bus. There was an odd gentleman sitting in a seat adjacent to Aziraphale who was eating something that was in a very crumpled, grimy brown paper bag. He kept glancing in the angel's direction, a creepy grin on his face. Aziraphale decided that he liked riding with Crowley much better.

When Aziraphale got to the hospital it was midafternoon, and the hospital was not busy. Most of the action came during the night when people tended to hurt themselves more. Aziraphale walked up to the counter.

"How may I help you, sir?" the lady behind the counter asked politely.

"My friend is under care here," Aziraphale explained.

"Name?"

"Mr. A. J. Crowley."

The lady clicked a few times at her computer. "Yes, he is in the urgent care wing in room 666. That's down the hall in that direction. Just find the waiting room for that section and talk to the person at the desk." The lady pointed to a hallway. "It's on the right."

Aziraphale thanked her and walked the way she directed. He smiled to himself at the room number. That was the exact sort of thing that Crowley would find amusing. He found the waiting room without incident and repeated the same information to the lady at that desk. She told him to have a seat and she would call him when they were ready.

Aziraphale sat in one of the plaid chairs and picked up a magazine at random. He blushed and picked up a different one. Ah, knitting, much better.

There was an older lady and what appeared to be her husband sitting on the other side of the room. She was softly weeping and he looked very uncomfortable. Aziraphale wondered what it was she was crying about and wished he could make it better. Crowley had warned him about trying to console people that he didn't know, though. He could get into a lot of trouble by assuming that people needed help…

A woman in a pair of bright blue scrubs walked into the room from the back hallway holding a clipboard.

"Guest for Mr. Crowley?" she asked. Aziraphale stood.

"Just me."

"Ah, good. I just want you to know that he is stable right now, but he has suffered quite a few injuries. We were very surprised that he survived his plunge in the lake. Witnesses say he was in there for a good amount of time, far longer than he could have been in there without drowning," she told him as they began to walk back to the room. "How do you know Mr. Crowley?"

"Oh, we've just been friends for a really long time," Aziraphale responded. They had stopped in front of room 666. "Do you actually have six hundred something rooms here?" Aziraphale asked curiously. The place looked way too small for that.

The lady smiled. "No, the numbering starts at 550 for some reason." She reached for the door handle. "Visiting hours end at five."

The nurse opened the door and allowed Aziraphale to walk through, closing the door shut behind him to give them a little privacy. His breath caught when he saw Crowley. One of his arms and one of his legs were in casts, and he had bruising on his face. There was a large bandage wrapped around his chest and a large one on his forehead. He looked like he had just lost a massive bar fight…against cinderblocks.

"Oh dear, Crowley," the angel mumbled, moving to the side of the bed. "I told you that you would suffer for your reckless driving."

Aziraphale had thought that Crowley was asleep, so he was very surprised when the demon responded. "Thought you'd never get here, you know," Crowley rasped, his yellow eyes opening and a smile forming on his face.

"Oh, hello, dear," Aziraphale responded. "Why are you even here? Or did you somehow forget that you were a supernatural being?"

Crowley sighed. "It's just been one issue after another. First, the bloody truck t-boned me, and unfortunately I was knocked unconscious. When I got here doctors were all over me when I woke up, and I couldn't very well open my eyes or, you know… I couldn't heal myself with them watching either. I have been here suffering since then, and I would like to get the hell out."

"Well, nobody is watching now. Heal yourself and we will be out that window in a minute tops. I'll help you out of the casts if you would like."

Crowley waved his free hand and his casts and bandages disappeared, along with the bruises and cuts and broken bones. He sat up and scratched his head. "Now where did they put those…?" He looked over to the small side table. "Aha!" He picked up a pair of very cracked sunglasses, waved his hand, and put on the newly repaired shades.

"You still have blood all over you, my dear," Aziraphale said, waving a manicured hand at Crowley's ruined coat. Crowley gestured towards himself and the clothing looked freshly laundered. He stood up.

"Now I'm ready," he said with a slightly-demonic smile.

When the doctors came in a little while later they were astonished to find the bed empty. Aziraphale had taken the time to make the bed and place a nice arrangement of flowers in a tasteful vase and set it on the side table.

One doctor looked at another. "Maybe we have the wrong room?"

"Yes, that's it, wrong room." They left in mild confusion.

XxX

"You know, demon, you had me very worried. When somebody can heal themselves with mere willpower you wonder why they are in the hospital." Aziraphale rarely called Crowley demon, but it felt like the proper thing to call him at the moment. "Scared me something awful when the lady from the hospital called me."

Crowley shrugged, picking up his glass of wine and taking a healthy gulp. "It's not like I planned getting run into by a truck," he said simply. "And the damage on the Bentley took forever to turn back to normal. And something about it is just not the same, you know?" Aziraphale nodded in response. Nothing was ever the same after it was magically turned back to normal.

"They do have a point, you know, those humans," Crowley said.

"About what?"

"Not driving distracted."

Aziraphale sighed. "What were you doing?"

"I was thinking too hard… Probably not healthy, thinking that hard."

"What were you thinking about so hard that you didn't see a truck coming at you?"

Crowley pondered whether or not he should tell Aziraphale what he was thinking about. He decided to change the subject.

"Hey, thanks for coming to the hospital. You didn't have to do that."

Aziraphale took a delicate sip from his wineglass and smiled across the table at his close friend. "Of course I had to come and get you. We wouldn't be able to drink together if you were too busy being maimed in a hospital."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "So the only reason you keep me as a friend is because I'm a good drinking partner?"

"Well, that, and you are _such_ a looker." Aziraphale would never have been able to joke like this if he was completely sober, but he had just enough of a buzz to be able to get away with it. Times like this when they were sitting in the back room of his bookshop were the times that they learned the most about each other.

Crowley leaned in closer to the angel. "Anything else?"

Aziraphale pretended to think about it. He tilted his head and pursed his lips. "Well, most recently I found another reason to keep you."

"And that is?"

Aziraphale sealed the distance between them and kissed Crowley softly. He pulled back and smiled. "You are also quite fun to kiss."

There was a mischievous look on Crowley's face. "Is that all that you find fun doing to me?"

Aziraphale blushed. "Well, I haven't been able to find out quite yet."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Want to?"

"Oh dear," Aziraphale mumbled. "I am not drunk enough yet." He downed the remainder of the glass in his hands and reached for the bottle.

"Hey," Crowley said, snatching the angel's hand before he could grab the bottle of wine. "I am not going to get you drunk so that you lose all reasoning abilities. I want you to _want_ to move further."

Aziraphale was surprised by this. "Now that is not a very demonic thing to say at all. I told you that you have a spark of goodness in there somewhere!"

Crowley squeezed Aziraphale's hand that he hadn't let go of. "I hang around you too much," he mumbled, and they kissed again, Crowley twining a hand through Aziraphale's blonde curls. It was not easy with the table between them.

"Hey, want to move to the couch?" Crowley asked, and they resumed their entanglements once they were seated on the aging cushions.

Crowley discovered Aziraphale's weakness when he had placed a hand on the part of Aziraphale's neck where it met his head. When he started massaging that spot Aziraphale had groaned in pleasure and melted into Crowley's touch, his head tilting back and his eyelids fluttering closed.

He pressed his lips on the angel's while he massaged the back of Aziraphale's neck and the angel clung to him desperately. Crowley pushed Aziraphale back on the couch and continued kissing him while lying on top of him. He was having a tough time restraining himself. He wanted the angel _so badly._

"Crowley," Aziraphale murmured against the demon's lips. Crowley couldn't stand it much longer, he would have to get some air or he would not be able to hold himself back.

Aziraphale felt Crowley beginning to pull away and he gripped him tighter. "Crowley, I want to find out," he moaned.

Crowley pulled back slightly. "What?"

Aziraphale looked him in the eye. There was a new spark in those blue eyes that hadn't been there before. "I want you. Desperately."

"You sure, angel? No turning back, I'm afraid."

"_Yes,_" Aziraphale moaned his fingers playing with the buttons on Crowley's shirt. "Hurry up, demon."

**And...fade to black...hehehe... Next chapter shall come after some juicy reviews!...or any reviews at all for that matter, I'm not picky...**


	6. Ineffable Activities

**This story is actually making me quite happy. I usually get angy at my stories after a while, but this one is just so much fun to write... Enjoy!**

Crowley awoke on the couch in Aziraphale's shop for the second time in a little over a week. This time was much different from last time, though. For one, he was not recovering from too much to drink like he had been, and last time he had awoken here there decidedly hadn't been an angel tangled up with him.

As he looked at the sleeping form of Aziraphale lying on top of him memories of the night before came flooding back into his brain. It had been the best night of his very long life, he decided. Everything had been _perfect_, and there was nothing that could convince him otherwise. Even the vague memories he had of Heaven couldn't top this, and that was saying something.

Crowley marveled at how much had changed in the past week, and wondered what would have happened had he completely turned away from Aziraphale when he had confessed his emotions. It would have sucked, that's what. He would have lived in denial until it drove him crazy. Lying here on an aging couch in a dusty bookshop with a bookish angel had never been so excitingly amazing.

"Mmmm…" Aziraphale mumbled, turning in his sleep. His arms curled tighter around Crowley's waist, and Crowley decided that he never wanted to leave this couch if he had to. They could stay here forever if they so chose.

That was when there was a sharp rapping on the front door to the bookshop. Aziraphale woke with a start, looking confused for a second before his eyes widened in remembrance and alarm.

"There's, um, someone at the door," Crowley mumbled lamely, and Aziraphale jumped up from the couch. He looked around.

"Where are my clothes?"

Crowley waved a hand at Aziraphale and his normal extremely outdated outfit appeared on him. Aziraphale frowned.

"What? You miracled them away last night, so here I am returning them to you."

"Oh dear," Aziraphale groaned, placing a hand on his forehead, more memories from the night before returning to him.

The person at the door knocked again, this time a little bit more impatiently. "Ugh, I better go answer that," Aziraphale said, and he moved from the back room towards the door.

Crowley reappeared his own clothing and sat up. He listened intently, trying to pick up on the conversation that was coming from the front of the shop. He wanted to know who was audacious enough to interrupt his peaceful morning with the angel.

Aziraphale came back looking exponentially more annoyed than he had when he had left to answer the door.

"It was another businessman here to try to get me to sell the shop," he complained.

"Well, he can have an extremely bad day if you would like him to," Crowley said, grinning and slipping his sunglasses on.

"No, it's alright. He won't be returning here again."

Crowley stood from the couch, moving closer to Aziraphale, but not completely closing the distance. He still wasn't sure how Aziraphale was feeling about the whole situation that had happened last night.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked, his voice getting soft. "Do you think that what we did last night was a sin?"

Crowley felt his heart sink. "It depends on what you wanted to get out of it," Crowley answered.

Aziraphale thought about this. "I love you, Crowley. I longed to be closer to you."

Crowley wrapped his arms around the forlorn angel. "How can an act of love be a sin?"

He felt Aziraphale relax in his arms and his worry disappeared. "What did you want out of it?" Aziraphale asked him, and Crowley froze. He had not been expecting this.

Crowley would have to tread carefully here. He had been so wrapped up in trying to make Aziraphale feel better that he didn't even take his own reasoning into account. What was he going to tell him? He decided the truth would be the proper way to go.

"Angel," he began, holding Aziraphale out at arm's length. "You have successfully uncovered emotions that I have been keeping in hiding for _years_. That is quite a feat when it comes to me."

"But that's not a reason to, _you know_."

Crowley sighed. "First off, you can say sex. It's not a swear word," he chuckled. "Second, there are multiple reasons that I wanted to do it. I was curious about what it would be like with you. Kissing you is the best thing ever so I figured anything else of the sort would be just as great. And, angel," he said, pulling Aziraphale so that his mouth was right next to the angel's ear. "I love you," he whispered.

Aziraphale's arms wrapped around Crowley's waist. "Oh, Crowley," he gushed. "And what are your results on that experiment?"

Crowley smiled to himself. "It was the most amazing thing I have ever done, and I do not regret it one bit. Could you feel the weird magical thing going on between us?" he asked.

Aziraphale nodded. "It w_as_ amazing. It must be an angel-demon thing. Too bad we're the only ones to have discovered something so _ineffable._"

"Do your dreams compare anything to the real thing?"

Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley in surprise. "What?"

"You know, the dreams you told me you have about me. You told me when you were drunk, by the way."

A smile broke out on Aziraphale's face. "They don't even _compare_ to the real thing."

And they found themselves on the couch again, discovering the _ineffable_ for the second time together.

XxX

Crowley had to get some _demonic_ work done or Downstairs would question what was up with him. He was skating on thin ice as it was, and if the ice broke then he was going to get into Trouble. There was a great big science convention at one of the large colleges not so far from London and he was going to start a huge argument and put some false data into the research, just to tick off some big wig scientists. He knew how they got about their discoveries, and it would be fun to watch them anger each other. Those were the kind of things he loved. Giving them just the smallest reason to do something bad and then leaving it up to them to decide whether or not they wanted to do the evil. They usually did.

Aziraphale had said that he would rather sit this one out. He might have been deeply in love with Crowley, but he was still an angel after all, and large arguments were really not his thing. And under the Arrangement he wasn't allowed to thwart it either. Not that he wanted to thwart Crowley…

Crowley was driving the newly repaired Bentley with a little more care than usual. He really didn't want to end up in a lake again, and he decided that, even though hospitals were some of his people's creations, he really detested them. He was glad that he had the ability to heal himself and be able to avoid hospitals just as much as he could. And he detested shots also. He was glad that he didn't need them.

He was just about to pull into the college that was hosting this event when something told him that he should turn around and go back immediately. He couldn't place why he felt this, but it was a very strong urge, and it felt like it was coming from his more supernatural senses. He had learned that he should trust those feelings a long time ago when he had not followed what they told him and had faced the consequences.

He sighed and turned the Bentley around, heading back to London. He felt himself get more and more restless, and his foot pressed down heavier on the accelerator. Something was very off, and he was going to find out what it was. He desperately hoped that it didn't have anything to do with the angel, but something told him that it did.

He turned into Soho in record breaking time and parked right outside the bookshop in what was slowly becoming his permanent parking place. He immediately felt the presence of something quite evil, something way too familiar. He jumped out of the car as quickly as he could, running toward the bookshop. He was about to fling the door open when he thought better of it. The tinkling of the bell would alert whoever was in there to his presence. He stuck an ear to the door.

He heard snippets of conversation. He had hoped that Aziraphale wouldn't be home, but he heard the angel's voice, the barest hint of nerves in it. The guttural voice that responded made Crowley's stomach drop. _Hastur_.

Crowley thought about the best plan of action. He didn't even know what the Duke of Hell was doing there, and it would be very unwise to barge in and risk ruining everything. Hastur wanted to kill Crowley, and for all he knew they were having a civil meeting in there…yeah right.

That's when Crowley heard Aziraphale give a startled yelp, and all of the reservations he was having disappeared, and he barged right into the shop, the bell on the door tinkling loudly. Crowley froze at what he saw.

Hastur was smiling right at him as if he had known that Crowley was going to arrive at some point, and he had Aziraphale in a choke hold. Aziraphale had a split lip and his glasses were askew, but other than that looked pretty calm for being held captive by a demon.

"We meet again, Crawlee," Hastur chuckled.

"What are you doing here?" Crowley asked him, inching closer to them, ever-so-slightly.

"Well, Crawlee, last I remember you completely destroyed my comrade and then tricked me by trapping me in a phone line. I told you that I would get payback, and here it is."

"What are you going to do?" Crowley asked. It wasn't like killing Aziraphale would do much good. He could just get a new corporation, although Crowley didn't really want him to have to go through that. And he didn't really want to see him get killed either.

"Oh, Crawlee, you think you have us all convinced that your relationship with the angel is a ruse to get him to Fall. Well, newsflash, mister, we can see right through your little lies. The Lord is too busy with other things and he doesn't feel like dealing with you, but I decided to bring it into my own hands and deal with you myself. It's disgusting, really… an angel, Crawlee. Is that the only option you had, or are you messed up in the head?"

"Good to know I have friends in low places," grumbled Crowley. He caught Aziraphale's eye who smiled weakly at him.

"Don't you want to know your punishment?" Hastur asked him, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

"Not really, but if you insist."

"Well, as we have all seen, you seem to have formed quite the connection with said angel," he growled, squeezing the arm around Aziraphale tighter, who gave a small yelp in protest. "If you look back at the door you will see that I put a spell on it that prevents you from leaving the shop until I lift it, and at my feet is the same spell. You, Crawlee, will watch as I torture your angel boyfriend. He may even lose his Faith as some angels do when you torture them, and he may Fall. Wouldn't that be fabulous?"

Crowley was panicked. Hastur, a Duke of Hell, would know exactly what kind of ways worked best on torturing an angel, and Crowley knew that Aziraphale was one of the softer angels. He had lived on Earth such a long time that he had not been in the presence of supernatural power in too long.

And then it came to Crowley, what he had to do to save Aziraphale. He would have to activate the magic circle that was on the floor and convince Heaven to recall Aziraphale, or get rid of the demon. He had no idea what it would do to him, but it was worth it if he could save the angel. His pride told him that he could save Aziraphale himself, but he knew that that was not the case. He needed some Divine intervention. He even remembered the words that he was supposed to say, having heard Aziraphale do it once. He hoped that he would be able to activate the circle.

He was staring at the floor, trying to remember where it was when his gaze was jolted to Aziraphale and Hastur when Aziraphale gave a shriek of pain. Hastur had him pinned against a wall. Aziraphale's shirt was ripped off and his wings were out. Hastur was slowly running a knife down the place where one of his wings met his back, drawing a thin line of blood. This was a very sensitive spot for any being with wings. Aziraphale's eyes were shut tight, and his mouth was a thin line. Crowley felt resolve fill him. Nobody hurt _his_ angel.

He threw a desk to the corner of the room, yanked up the carpet, and found the chalk circle on the floorboards. He managed to find seven candles and light them all, placing them around the circle. He said the Words. Nothing happened.

"Bugger!" he cursed quietly, not wanting to alert Hastur as to what he was doing. He repeated the Words again, this time with more force. A bright blue shaft of light filled the circle.

"What do you want, demon?" snapped the voice of the Metatron.

Hastur had stopped cutting the angel and had looked over with panic in his eyes. No demon felt comfortable in the presence of anything too holy, especially a Duke of Hell.

"I need you to recall Aziraphale."

"Why would we do that?" The voice was way too calm. Crowley felt his blood start to boil.

"One of my kind is torturing him. You need to bring him back so that he can get away!"

"Why would a demon take sides with an angel over another demon?"

At this point Hastur had gone back to Aziraphale, wanting to get as much in as possible before anything happened. Aziraphale let out a very audible yelp, and Crowley was quite sure that the Metatron would have heard this.

"It doesn't matter, just save him!" Crowley hissed, growing more panicked. "He's your angel, don't you want to keep him safe?"

"How do we know that you're not tricking us?"

"Why would I trick you? You just heard him yell in pain! And aren't you omniscient or something? Can't you tell?"

"No, we are just the Metatron, not God Himself."

Aziraphale yelped again. "Just do anything!"

"Fine," the voice mumbled, and there was a bright flash in the room that caused Crowley to topple over, his head filling with a horrible, painful ringing sound. There was the most horrible screech, and then there was silence. When he looked up he saw that Aziraphale was sitting on the floor and he seemed unscathed. His shirt was repaired and back in place and his wings were hidden again. And near him was a pile of ash that Crowley assumed used to be Hastur.

He was about to get up and console Aziraphale when another ringing went through his head and he put both hands on his head in pain. What the heck was going on?

Aziraphale stood up and walked over to Crowley, reaching down and helping the demon to his feet. The spell that had been separating them had lifted when Hastur had disintegrated.

"Hmm… Interesting," the Metatron commented.

"What's interesting?" Crowley grunted, his head feeling like it was filled with fuzz.

"That blast was supposed to disintegrate any creature from Hell. You are still alive, although we can tell you are experiencing some pain."

Aziraphale looked furious. "You were just going to kill him after he was trying to save me from that evil creature?"

The blue light flickered. "He is a demon."

"It doesn't matter, he was doing something good!"

Crowley, who had been listening with mild interest, doubled over, his head ringing again. His vision was filled with bright spots and he felt like he was going to vomit. And no amount of demon healing seemed to be helping at all.

"What have you done to him?" Aziraphale asked, supporting Crowley before he toppled over.

"That blast that was supposed to kill him must have only messed with his head." There was a smaller flash of light and Crowley felt the pain disappear. He straightened. The Metatron continued talking. "Apparently your, ahem, friend Crowley is not an average demon. He has been away from Hell for too long and has become too humanized. We could say the same about you too, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale didn't respond. Crowley took his hand and squeezed it gently.

"Good day, Aziraphale, demon. We sincerely hope that we don't hear from either of you in a long time. We are quite done with you." And with that the blue light flickered off.

They both relaxed, and Crowley pulled Aziraphale into a tight hug. "I am never letting you leave my sight again," Crowley growled, tucking his face into the crook of Aziraphale's neck.

"Thank you for saving me, my dear," he murmured. "It took a lot of nerve for you to call Above. I can never thank you enough for that."

"It was my fault that Hastur came at all. He was trying to get back at me."

"But you couldn't have prevented that. He seemed dead set on hurting you any way he could. And apparently I was the one way he thought he could get to you."

"Sure worked," Crowley grunted. "You know, angel, I would pretty much do anything to make sure you were safe? What have you done to me?"

Aziraphale chuckled, and Crowley felt his spirits lift immediately. Funny how feelings catch on like that. In the back of his mind Crowley wondered what Hell would do about this treachery, but it is hard to stay worried when you are feeding the ducks with your favorite being in the world on a glorious day near the end of summer.

**Please review or I shall push you in a duck pond... Next chapter shall be coming soon. Unfortunately I have not typed it up yet, so it might take a little longer than usual...**


	7. Car Insurance

Aziraphale was worried about Crowley. Ever since what they both would refer to as the Incident he had been rather jumpy. Every time the radio changed songs or the television got louder he would flinch, expecting Infernal Authorities to contact him at any moment. He had now gotten rid of two Dukes of Hell, and they would probably be wondering what was up with him.

"Calm down, dear," Aziraphale said softly when Crowley had jumped at a loud car insurance commercial that had come on the television at the flat. Aziraphale had tried to coax him to drink more wine to calm his nerves but he had turned and said that he would like to have fully functional senses if they contacted him, thank you very much.

"If you keep fretting like this you will hurt yourself. Stress is not good on the body," Aziraphale stated, pushing his reading glass up his nose as he inspected a glossy magazine that was sitting on Crowley's side table. It was one of those horrible celebrity magazines that showed the worst pictures of famous people it could find and stated that they were going crazy or on drugs. He suspected it of being one of Crowley's inventions.

"I just can't help but feel paranoid. I mean, Hell is after me. Wouldn't that worry anybody?"

Aziraphale didn't know how to comfort the demon. He couldn't lie and tell him that he knew that everything was going to be alright, because it probably wasn't. Aziraphale was also quite worried about the wrath of Hell, because he didn't want them to take his demon away from him. What would he do all alone on Earth without his friend of six thousand years?

"I just wish they would give me my punishment already. I hate this waiting thing."

"Maybe they are doing it on purpose, just to frighten you."

"Most likely…"

_"CROWLEY."_

Crowley jumped a good meter off of the couch when Flo, the lady from Progressive started talking to him.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding like this call had been completely, unexpectedly pleasant.

"_YOU ARE QUITE TIRESOME, CROWLEY, AND THOSE OF US WHO ARE IN CHARGE OF DOLLING OUT PUNISHMENTS ARE VERY TIRED OF _COMING_ UP WITH A PROPER ONE FOR YOU. YOU JUST KEEP IRRITATING US."_

"Well, I…"

"_WE ARE DONE WITH YOU, CROWLEY. WE DO NOT WANT TO DEAL WITH YOU ANYMORE. JUST KEEP YOU AND YOUR AFFILIATIONS WITH THAT ANGEL TO YOURSELF AND AS LONG AS YOU KEEP UP THE SINNING YOU SHALL NOT BE PUNISHED."_

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley in shock. They were letting him go free without punishment! Crowley had an oddly blank expression on his face as if he didn't believe what he was hearing.

"Um…really?"

_"DO NOT MAKE US CHANGE OUR MINDS, CROWLEY."_

"Oh, of course, I'll just….uh, thanks," Crowley mumbled. The television went back to its normal programming.

"Oh, Crowley, this is great!" Aziraphale yelped, throwing his arms around the demon.

Crowley didn't answer. Aziraphale heard him sniff a few times. He pulled back to stare at the demon. "Crowley, are you _crying?"_

Crowley hurriedly wiped his eyes underneath his sunglasses. "No, just fighting off some allergies. Sometimes having a human body can be so _irksome."_

Aziraphale shook his head, pulling Crowley back in for a hug. This was a dream come true. There would be no Apocalypse, nobody was being recalled, and nobody was being punished. Who knew that Heaven and Hell would finally accept the fact that a demon and an angel were together? Maybe that would teach them a thing or two about getting over their differences, because are they really _that_ different?

"Do you think that the Bosses ever get together and discuss stuff like this?" Aziraphale pondered out loud. "I mean, what are the odds that both sides give us the exact orders?"

Crowley shook his head. "It's ineffable, angel."

XxX

Over the years, Heaven and Hell kind of forgot about the pair that they had left on Earth. They didn't have enough time to bother about the wayward angel and demon, and if anyone were to ask them about the one of them that was fraternizing with the enemy they would say something along the lines of 'I have no idea what you are talking about.'

The people that lived and shopped in Soho noticed that the little bookshop that was never open had been sold, and some carbon-copy bookseller had moved in, selling those glossy new books that had the worth of a wad of scribbled-on paper. The people in the nicer area of London noticed that the owner of the nicest flat in town had moved out, leaving the place to be purchased by one of those big-wig scientists that had just had his theory proven and gotten a high-paying job at the nearest college.

Nobody really put two-and-two together, and it really didn't affect their simple lives. The people that lived in the rural area of South Downs might have noticed the nice cottage down the lane was purchased by a young couple, but they really didn't care. The ducks at St. James still had their regulars, and life seemed to be normal.

The people who lived in South Downs might have noticed the increased rate of wiling and thwarting, but it all evened out in the end, so maybe they didn't. They might have noticed how about twice a week a black Bentley roared away heading towards London with an angel and a demon in it, but maybe they didn't. They sure didn't notice that there was something momentous about the two that lived down the lane, that they were the first ever to breach the separation of Heaven and Hell, and that it was all very ineffable.

They didn't notice the glow that was coming off the blonde one, or the way the one with the glasses reacted to anything that the blonde one did. They didn't notice the magic that radiated around the pair or the strange absence of Heavenly or Infernal Interference that was usually associated with the two. They just went about their normal, average lives.

And surely nobody knew that the reason for the new people down the lane, the happiness that seemed to be sewn in to the town, and the powerful magic that radiated all around had all happened just because of a few snapshots that had been placed in a wallet out of love…

The End

**Thanks to all of my readers! Please review and let me know what you thought of it. I'm very happy that I was able to finally finish off a fanfic, as I usually like to leave them unfinished...**


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